Existential Angst Unleashed: The Agony of the One Question I Despise Being Asked

The Agony of Repetition: A Venomous Tirade Against the One Question I Despise Being Asked

Oh, how delightful it is to have my soul stirred by the recurrent pestilence of a single, loathsome inquiry! How utterly exquisite it feels to suppress the urge to scream into the void each time the cursed words escape from the lips of another unsuspecting soul. Yes, dear reader, allow me the pleasure of regaling you with the saga of the one question that fuels the flames of my contempt and resentment like no other: “What do you want to do with your life?”

Ah, the audacity! The sheer gall of presuming that I, a mere mortal trapped in the maelstrom of existence, could possess the clarity of vision to discern my life’s purpose at the drop of a hat. How dare anyone expect such profound enlightenment from me, a humble creature stumbling through the labyrinthine corridors of uncertainty and doubt?

This query, dripping with saccharine concern and faux interest, is nothing short of an existential ambush disguised as polite conversation. It lurks in the shadows of social gatherings, poised to pounce upon its unsuspecting prey with the precision of a skilled predator. And oh, how it revels in its ability to incite a symphony of internal turmoil within my tortured psyche.

For you see, dear reader, this question is not merely an innocuous inquiry into my aspirations; it is a relentless interrogation that exposes the raw nerve of my insecurities and lays bare the gaping chasm of my existential angst. It forces me to confront the terrifying reality of my own mortality and grapple with the futility of my endeavors in the face of an indifferent universe.

What do I want to do with my life, you ask? Oh, how I wish I could provide a pithy retort or a succinct summary of my grand ambitions, but alas, I am but a mere mortal burdened with the crushing weight of indecision and self-doubt. Do I want to change the world? Perhaps. Do I want to pursue my passions? Maybe. Do I want to find meaning in a meaningless existence? Who’s to say?

And yet, despite the overwhelming uncertainty that plagues my every waking moment, society demands an answer. It demands a neatly packaged narrative of ambition and success, a tale of triumph over adversity and a relentless pursuit of greatness. But what if I have no grand design, no master plan to conquer the world? What if my aspirations are as fleeting and ephemeral as the morning mist, evaporating into nothingness at the slightest hint of scrutiny?

So, dear reader, the next time you are tempted to pose this accursed question to another unsuspecting soul, I implore you to pause and reconsider. Spare them the agony of grappling with their own existential demons and instead engage in more meaningful discourse. For life is too short, too precious, to be wasted on futile attempts to divine the unknowable. And as for me, well, I shall continue to wander aimlessly through the tangled thicket of uncertainty, secure in the knowledge that the only certainty in life is its inherent absurdity.

#ExistentialAngst #LifePurpose #SelfReflection #PersonalGrowth #ExistentialDread